


Bottoms Up

by orphan_account



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Animal Play, Apocalyptiplier, BDSM, Choking, Collar, Collars, Dom/sub, Kitty play, M/M, Obedience, Petplay, Punishment, Puppy Play, Reward, septicrank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 10:31:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9487313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It's all a giant cocktease tbh.





	

 “So,” Jack begins with a cheery smile, relaxing with a soft groan into one end of the sectional couch, “what are we celebrating?” He grasps the champagne flute tenderly, pinky gracefully extended as his glittering eyes flit between his friends.

  
Tyler hands a glass over to Ethan, who takes it with thin fumbling fingers, jiggling the glass a bit as he plops down into a comfortable divot. He moves to kick his feet up onto the couch, but he meets the infamous stone gaze and immediately drops them back to the floor with a harsh _thud_. The sudden motion causes the liquid to slosh dangerously against the side of the glass, and Ethan's panicked eyes glance up to meet Tyler's.

  
“Don't spill,” he says sternly, his stark sky blue eyes sincere and piercing. Ethan's jaw tenses and twitches reflexively, and he wills the nerves away with a hard swallow.

  
Tyler turns away, gliding over to hand the remaining glass to Mark, who reaches out for it, but hesitates.

  
“This isn't-” he starts, but Tyler interjects, pressing the glass reassuringly into his palm.

“Nah, it's sparkling cider.” He knows Mark can't drink.

  
Mark gives a gracious half-smile, raising the glass in thanks before moving past him. He nestles carefully into the corner of the couch, close enough to Ethan to reach out and touch him, close enough to Jack that if he breathed hard enough Mark would feel it, and he tries to ignore his heart suddenly thudding loudly in his ears.

Tyler takes the other end of the couch opposite the Irishman with a casual sigh, sitting forward at first with his forearms on his knees. He rolls his neck quickly to try and get it to pop, and he groans loudly with relief when he receives three satisfying cracks, letting himself lean back against the cushions and kick his feet out lazily.

  
“Now, to answer your question,” he nods his head at Jack, silky mocha curls bouncing gently against his scalp, “we happen to be celebrating a night off, and, I mean, honestly it feels like the first in _months_.” They all chuckle knowingly and pause to take sips. Tyler takes gulps. As he finishes his glass, a slow smile spreads across his face, his gaze landing solidly upon the two in the middle of the couch. “And, I even got presents."

  
Eyes instantly alight, Ethan and Mark both turn expectantly to Tyler with nearly-identical grins, excited and antsy. Tyler chuckles – he always knew the best way to get them worked up; it was practically Pavlovian at this point.

  
“I like presents!” Ethan shouts with childlike enthusiasm, unable to contain himself and beginning to bounce and jump in his seat.

  
Mark's eyes widen and the smile drops from his face, shaking his head in protest.

  
“Ethan, no-”

  
He tries to stop the bouncing blue boy, reaching out to grasp his shoulder and keep him still, but it's too late – Ethan's glass topples in the midst of his jerking and spins through the air, champagne arcing across the carpet and splattering across the couch, across himself, across Tyler.

A soft but pronounced gasp escapes Ethan's throat, echoed quickly by Mark as he recoils into the plush cushions, glancing anxiously at Tyler and clutching his own glass securely against his chest. Ethan can't bring himself to lift his frantic stare and face Tyler as he comes to a halt, looming over him and casting a harsh shadow across his tiny frame.

Jack is watching with a bemused expression, patient and collected as he sips at the contents of his glass. His eyes travel over the soft curling spine of the youngest man's figure, noting the way it trembles and shivers with shame, until they settle into the sweeping locks of cerulean and navy. He absentmindedly wonders what the soft tendrils would look like balled up in his fist, whether the face beneath would be contorted in pain or ecstasy. He takes another sip, his gaze shifting to Tyler, who is staring with an unreadable expression at the top of Ethan's head.

After a painful moment of silence, Tyler's gaze breaks its icy hold and his face relaxes into something like calm. He reaches a hand out and strokes a few fingers through the mess of blue, fingernails gently dragging along his scalp and scratching lightly. Instantly relaxing, Ethan's shoulders droop and his head juts forward into Tyler's palm in response, a smile settling into his still-burning cheeks as he leans into the petting. A soft whimper of satisfaction barely makes it out, but it does, and the sound carries into everyone's ears.

A surge of something so faint it's almost unrecognizable shoots through Mark, subtle like static but deeper and visceral. His ears prickle and his eyes gloss over lightly, breathing becoming shallow and attention solely on Tyler.

Jack can feel heat settling low in his belly and tingling in his fingers and lips. His head is beginning to trail with thoughts of the small pale frame on all fours, forearms tensed and shoulders taught, ass in the air, and he can't help the twinge pulling at the front of his jeans.

Tyler chews the soft flesh of the inside corner of his mouth, determined to keep the coy grin that threatens his lips a secret. With an eyebrow raised, he strokes his hand down Ethan's face, curling his hand under his chin and urging him upwards.

Ethan follows the suggestion easily, craning his neck against the clenched fist as he stands, not daring to look away from Tyler's insistent gaze. He struggles to gulp down air, the thick rasp of the older man's knuckles digging into his adam's apple and stuttering his breath. He feels tingly and warm, like he's practically floating.

  
“Do you have anything to say, Blue?”

  
Ethan's eyelids flutter for a moment before hovering to half-mast, eyes glazing over as subspace washes through him, the faintest hint of a smirk playing at his lips. His pale tongue slides along them carefully, slicking saliva into the dry cracks and resting between his teeth at the forefront of his mouth. The soft pink tip protrudes from between his pursed lips a bit, much like a-

  
“Kitten,” Jack's husky accent breathes through a chuckle, “ohh, what a _beautiful_ little kitten.”

  
Ethan's ears twitch in the direction of the alluring voice, but he dare not move his eyes. The alpha was radiating heat and command, and oozing tension – Ethan felt compelled to wrap his lithe body against Tyler's legs, to press himself against him, knead into his hips and earn his approval. Again, he remained as he was – well trained.

  
“He is a _very good_ kitten,” Tyler purrs, the corner of his mouth tucking carefully into a smirk. His fist unfurls suddenly and large, threatening fingers wrap around the slender throat as his deep voice intensifies, “ _normally_ , anyway.”

  
Mark observes the display hazily, thick tendrils of subspace worming around his brain, foggy and warm like getting into a steamy bath. He quickly clears his glass and sets it on the floor, returning to his spot and pulling his knees up to his chest.

Jack tuts to himself as he spreads his legs, adjusting the ever-growing bulge that had quickly settled uncomfortably against the seam of his zipper. Downing his glass, he leans forward, setting it on the ground before pushing himself up, shoulders rippling and spine issuing a few loud pops.

Mark doesn't mean for his eyes to wander over the supple curves of Jack's hips, to let them dip into the hollow of his lower back, to gape at his ass, but they do.

And Tyler notices.

  
“RED,” he barks loudly, snapping Mark's attention from a perfect posterior to a perfectly PISSED Tyler.

  
Mark's cheeks burn with guilt so deep they nearly match his hair. Tyler releases his hold on Ethan and storms over to the couch, wrenching a fist into the flush of crimson and pulling his head back, earning himself a hissing gasp of a moan. He savors it for a moment, tensing his fingers around the tufts of red and black, leaning in close.

  
“What are the rules, Red?” he growls dangerously, his breath hot and rolling like lava off Mark's jaw.

  
He stutters a moment as he tries to force the words from his throat.

  
“Ey-eye-eyes o-on you,” he manages to breathe, his eyes rolling back into his head as a lazy grin begins to swell across his lips. His scalp tingles with wave after wave of electric ecstasy and he can't help the little hungry rasp in his exhales.

"Thaaat's right," Tyler coos, gently rolling Mark's head around and massaging the scalp, dragging a finger down behind an ear and scratching tenderly, eliciting a hiccuping gasp that melts into a satisfied groan. Abruptly, Tyler drops his hand, his voice deep and quiet, "It's too bad you couldn't have been a better boy for me." His gaze snaps to Ethan, who cowers under the weight of it, "Both of you - here we have company and you can't even behave. It's such a shame."

  
Ridden with guilt, Mark's head droops so low it almost hits the floor. Before he knows it he's off the couch and on the ground, knees collapsing against the carpet and palms sunk into its fibers. "I'm sorry," he breathes, his heartbeat thundering in his head and his lungs heavy as subspace envelops him, "I'm a bad dog, BAD, bad dog, I'm so _so_ sorry master."

  
Jack doesn't bother to hold back the guttural lust-drenched chuckle, suckling at the soft bow in his bottom lip and palming his erection through his jeans.

  
"You should be sorry - now I have to punish you both, and I was hoping you'd be good boys for me." Tyler holds up a finger to Jack, giving him the 'hold on a sec' signal, and he refocuses his gaze back on Mark first, and then Ethan. "Don't. Move." He turns and heads into the adjacent room, disappearing from view.

  
Mark sits fastidiously still, barely allowing himself to breathe as he waits. He would be a good boy, he was determined, he would sit still and he would be patient for Master and he would be the best dog, and Master would reward him. Despite his anxiety, a confident smile breaks out across his face at the prospect of praise - if he had a tail, it would be wagging.

Ethan, on the other hand, has a look on his face that looks like he knows where the treats are hidden and doesn't plan to share. Ethan slyly inches his slender legs to the left just a little, scooting his frame nearly imperceptibly across the carpet, just a few scant degrees off his original location, certain that Master surely wouldn't perceive his adjustments. Ethan smiles to himself confidently, unaware he's being watched by the svelte Irish visitor, like a hawk ready to devour its prey.

  
Tyler returns and Ethan's smile widens – hands casually extended backward propping him up with his knees in the air, pigeon-toed and looking the picture of innocence. Mark remains attentive with rigid form, eyes alert and to snapping to Master as he turns to face them.

Tyler moves to begin a sentence, but is swiftly interrupted.

  
"I jus' wanna let you know, this one," Jack says as he points to Ethan, his voice hoarse to match the dry smirk underlining his gleaming eyes, "decided he'd be cute and move a couple inches, maybe t'see if you noticed." 

  
Ethan's eyes bulge anxiously and the smile fades in a flash, his head swiveling reflexively toward Jack to pull a shocked stare, but there's a sudden sight that halts his progress. Before his neck can complete the motion, he allows his gaze to fall on the small, bright blue item Tyler extracts from a black box. It has a tiny bow, with an adorable little silver bell hanging from the center.

  
"Uhh..." he begins, struggling for a moment to remember how to speak, "ah- a collar?" Ethan gulps, attempting to lubricate this suddenly arid mouth and throat. He can't lie - he's fond of the color; robin's egg blue has always been a favorite, and he's not sure he ever told Tyler that, but in a way, he's not surprised that he knows.

"That's right, kitten," Tyler responds, turning his gaze to Mark as he reaches back into the box, "and we have something special for you too, boy."

  
He lifts the thick, pink studded leather dog collar from the container by the D-ring, twirling it playfully and grinning at the shocked but happy expression on Mark's face. He was probably expecting red, but Tyler had decided this one suits him better.

  
"Now normally," Tyler begins, "I'd just teach both you boys a lesson my way and make it easy for you," he calmly closes the box the collars came in, setting it to the side and resting his hands upon the table. "But today, Blue, you've been a very naughty little kitten," he shrugs wistfully, "and I have no choice but to let Jack be your Master for tonight."   
  
  


Ethan's eyes flicker mutually with excitement and fear at the news - he doesn't know what kind of Master Jack would be, and he wasn't sure how much or what kind of trouble he was in for, but he couldn't wait to find out.

Tyler looks up, catching Jack's hungry eyes to give him a heads up before tossing the dainty blue choker to him, moving in front of Mark as he undoes the clasp of the pink collar.

Mark's eyes are bright and gleaming, and he leans happily into the inviting stretch of leather; once Tyler's finished snapping it into place, the puppy shakes his head gently, getting a feel for the material and the fit and settling comfortably into his role. He nuzzles into Tyler's hand affectionately, bumping it gently with his nose in an effort to get more attention from him. He grins and breathes out a giggle as Tyler's fingers sweep through his curls again, and he feels like a good boy.

Jack unbuckles the clasp of the smaller collar, encroaching on Ethan from behind him steady and slow, barely making any sound as he moves and savoring the soft gasping sounds of his anticipation.

Ethan's certain that he hears Jack's breath a few feet away until hands drop in front of his sight and the light dragging sensation of the suede and leather scratch harshly against his neck.

As he deftly fastens the collar, Jack is overwhelmed by his urge to wrap a hand around the soft flesh of the kitten's throat, the pads of his fingertips trailing carefully across the hollows and sloping planes. Eyes heavy and half-lidded, he grips the throat firmly, jerking the small frame into a standing position - the gargling noise that he squeezes out make his stomach flutter and his pulse race, desire speeding through his body at a mile a minute.

Deep in subspace, Ethan has gone and 'Blue' the kitten has come, purring loudly and grinning, tiny specks of drool slipping from the corners of his mouth. Jack can't resist his urges anymore and presses his lips to the pet's, tongue hot and needy against his mouth, prying it open and relishing in it's delicious depths.

Tyler runs a hand down Red's cheek, the tip of his thumb tenderly resting against the gentle dip behind the puppy's jaw; he gives a soft smile before applying pressure to the joint, forcing the pretty mouth open, soft pink lips gaping and slicked with saliva. With an entrancing stare, he drags his thumb down the scruffy jawline, pushing it up onto the puppy's lips and smushing them carelessly, relishing in the way the supple skin manipulates beneath his finger. He plunges the tip into the waiting mouth, the immediate wetness of tongue enveloping it whole – the puppy was eager today, happy as usual to please Master. He couldn't ignore the tugging at the front of his shorts - he also couldn't ignore how hot Mark looked like this; all desperate and shameful, panting and practically humping his leg.

Jack pulls the kitten away, a string of saliva trailing between their plumped lips and snapping against Blue's bare chin as they separate. A gleaming grin stretches across the Irishman's face, and he turns to face Tyler.

  
“We should really get them some tails sometime – I bet their little asses would look so cute all full and fluffy,” he giggles mischievously.

“Mm, Jack, you must be a mind reader,” Tyler mumbles under his breath, shoving another finger into the puppy's mouth, making Red gag and drool, eyes rolled back and mouth slack with a grin. He withdraws his arm, smiling to himself as his pet collapses before him, the front of his shorts stained dark and wet with his excitement. “That can be arranged.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna see more, validate my sweet ass with some kudos and comments.   
> (Seriously please I need it. I wasn't loved enough as a child.)
> 
> Originally posted on [tumblr](https://abeautifultrashpile.tumblr.com/post/155527944575/bottoms-up)


End file.
